


Out of Time

by Zeiphyx



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Caring Aragorn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Aragorn, Hurt/Comfort, Limp Legolas, Sick Legolas, Sickfic, Worried Aragorn, caring legolas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-08 00:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19095724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeiphyx/pseuds/Zeiphyx
Summary: Legolas becomes suddenly and seriously ill whilst on a pleasure trip with Aragorn. Far from home and help, a young Aragorn must use all of his skill to get Legolas to Rivendell before it is too late. Sick!Legolas, Minor Hurt!Aragorn, Caring!Aragorn, minor Caring!Legolas, and plentiful Hurt/Comfort with a liberal sprinkling of Friendship and Fluff.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When you begin reading this, you can either start with the italicised scene below (which would be my preference), or, if you would prefer not to have anything revealed to you until its chronological occurrence in the story, you can skip straight to the actual beginning of the story (in standard text, after the linebreak), as the italicised scene is repeated in its entirety later on. This story was something of a fun challenge for me to write, as it deals with a real medical condition, and all treatment and other facts have been thoroughly and exhaustively researched in their correct contexts. I hope you enjoy it.

_**H** e had barely made it to the safety of the trees before it started. White-hot pain ripped across his middle with such furious intensity that his shaky legs gave way. He pitched forward straight for the tree, but managed at the last moment to catch himself against the trunk with the arm not wrapped around himself. His stomach rolled again and cold sweat pricked his skin as the nausea rose, making him shut his eyes and swallow thickly as his fingernails carved furrows into the rough bark._ _Another lurch of his stomach sent a fresh wave of agony shooting through him, finally pushing him off the edge. He coughed before violently retching, losing his battle against the nausea - along with what little he'd managed to eat. Pressing his forehead into the cool tree trunk, he moaned quietly in between what were now dry heaves, desperately willing the spasms to abate. When they finally did, he remained motionless, having not the energy to move as he sucked in huge ragged breaths and spat out bile._ _Eventually he straightened as much as he could, gathered his strength, and turned to head back, but instead he startled and stumbled backwards - letting out a pained gasp as he did so. He raised his eyes and his heart sank at the alarmed grey ones that stared back at him._ _"...Estel." And then the retching started up again with no warning. Having nothing to hold him up this time, his legs gave way and he plummeted towards the ground._

* * *

"Ai, Legolas!" Aragorn ground out through clenched teeth, and took a large swig of wine from the bottle clutched in his hand. The aforementioned elf shrank back from his position at the human's side, where he was stitching the last of several large gashes in the young man's forearm - worry evident on his face.

"Estel, I am so sorry-" he began, but was cut off before he could finish.

"No," Aragorn panted to get his breath back and gestured for the elf to continue, "You are supposed to tell me to stop being such a weak little human, not apologise!" The man chuckled but his laughter was stolen by a wince. Legolas frowned but resumed stitching, visibly flinching with each pass of the needle through torn flesh. He gave a sad sigh.

"This time though, it is my fault."

"Your fault?" Aragorn's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Where in Arda did you get such an idea?"

"The Trollshaws," Legolas explained glumly, "This was my idea. You wished to follow the Bruinen from Imladris, but I wanted to cross the Ford and seek adventure in those accursed Shaws! And then - " Aragorn held up his free hand for silence and rolled his eyes at his companion.

"And then we played rock, parchment, knife, and you won."

"But -"

"Tell me, Legolas, did you cheat?"

"No, why?" The elf's confusion was evident.

"Then it was a fair win and it is not your fault. Besides, had I thought it ill-advised, I'd not have gone along with it."

"Regardless, Estel." Legolas's tone was grave as he tied off the last stitch and carefully cut the remaining length of twine. "I am older and more experienced than you." Anticipating the human's snort, the elf ignored it. "And do not try to remind me that you have overtaken me by a mere handful of human years! _Ridiculous_." Legolas shook his head in disapproval, reaching for the salve and bandages. "I should have acted more responsibly and then you would not have had to throw yourself into a warg for me!" His voice rose in distress as he finished, and the elf took a deep breath to quiet his emotions while he pinned the end of the bandage firmly in place.

"And I would do it again, as many times as I had to. It caught us both by surprise and you were knocked down - it could have easily been me in your place." Aragorn flexed his arm and winced slightly, glad that it was his left, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Waving off Legolas's attempts to help, the young man got up on slightly unsteady legs and stretched, testing out each of his limbs in turn. "Do you know what I think, Legolas?"

"What do you think?" The elf, bending down to pack up the healing supplies, did not see the smirk on the human's face, and yelped in alarm as he was abruptly and unceremoniously pushed into the river.

Legolas surfaced to see a manically laughing Aragorn dancing with glee on the bank.

"I think, Legolas Greenleaf, that you are being _ridiculous_!" Aragorn clutched his sides and collapsed against a boulder, tears of mirth streaming down his face as he gasped for breath. Shaking his head and grinning, Legolas pushed up off his toes and showered the human with a well aimed splash. Aragorn yelled and scrambled to his feet before dashing for cover, and Legolas took the opportunity to hoist himself onto dry land where he sat down on a fallen log and began to peel off his soaked clothing.

The human reappeared just in time to be hit with a wet slap as a waterlogged elven cloak wrapped itself around his face.

"You deserved that and worse." Legolas winked smugly as he tipped his head in kind at the scowling Aragorn, who broke into a roguish grin and threw the cloak back. Legolas deftly caught it without skipping a beat, and was busy wringing it out when Aragorn plopped down beside him.

"Here." The human unclasped his own cloak and offered it to the elf, who accepted it and began towelling his hair. "You needed the bath anyway."

"Speak for yourself, filthy human!" Legolas smiled and stood, undoing his braids with his free hand and gesturing to his clothing with the other. He was clad only in his undergarments and a thin cotton shirt. "Thanks to you, I shall have to go about like this now!" He wiggled his bare toes and frowned. In response, Aragorn pulled off his own boots and gave a mock bow.

"Fear not, my prince! For I shall go bravely ahead and ensure that you do not step in anything slimy!"

Legolas gave a most ungainly snort and rolled his eyes, continuing to smile at his friend's antics.

"And that, my loyal subject, is no less than I would expect." He nimbly dodged the smack aimed at the back of his head, and then instantly sobered at the human's involuntary gasp of pain. The elf snapped around to see Aragorn hunched over his injured arm, suddenly pale. The human threw him a shaky smile and made a nonchalant gesture with his free hand.

"I am alright; momentary lapse of judgement is all."

"Does it hurt a lot?" Legolas's voice was sad.

"No." It was a lie and both knew it, but neither would give voice to it. "Stop blaming yourself."

Legolas looked away and hummed quietly. The pair were camped out in a piece of land known as The Angle: Southwest of Imladris, the triangular wedge of grassland was cut off from the South Downs and Hollin by the Loudwater and Hoarwell rivers as they diverged from the Mithethel and cut their own paths. And to the North, the Great East Road separated the plains from the Trollshaws, creating a modicum of safety. The roar of the Hoarwell, warm sun, and merry chirping of birds contributed to what was a picturesque and tranquil scene. Gently undulating grasslands stretched endlessly South in front of them, and at their backs a tall stand of aspens softly rustled their boughs in the breeze.

However, this sense of peace was deceptive: just hours before, the friends had come close to losing their lives in an ambush. The strong winds and thick cover of the woodlands had not been in their favour, and the warg had leaped at them as if out of nowhere. Legolas had been knocked off his mare as the beast had slammed full speed into his chest and stomach, and Aragorn, having had no time to draw his bow, had thrown himself from his gelding to aid his dazed friend.

The human had fortunately made short work of the creature, but not before it had raked its claws over his left arm, laying the flesh open in four long slashes. Taking no heed of the blood flowing unchecked from the wounds, Aragorn had hauled Legolas to his feet just as the howls had started and it had become apparent that their attacker had not been alone. Vaulting atop their horses and Aragorn clutching his arm in an attempt to stem the bleeding, the pair had ridden hard for the East Road, slowing only once they had crossed into the relative safety of The Angle. Once Legolas had felt certain that they were no longer in any immediate danger, he had brought them to a halt on the banks of the Hoarwell. Aragorn had been bleeding heavily by this point and stitching the wounds could not wait.

And so the elf and the human had found themselves in their current situation. Aragorn needed to rest and the horses could go no further. Thanks to the human's loyalty and quick reflexes, Legolas had come out of the incident unharmed, and so he had been the one to take charge of the situation (despite Aragorn's protests to the contrary).

The human stretched, taking care not to jar his arm, and nudged Legolas - making the elf jerk slightly.

"Do you plan to get out of that wet shirt? You carry half the river with you." The ghost of a frown passed over the elf's face before he looked amused.

"Nay, my body heat will dry it faster." The elf would not divulge this to his companion, but he had a nagging ache where the warg had collided with him and he suspected that he may soon be sporting some impressive bruising to show for it. He would check it over later once he had some privacy, but any damage was superficial and thus entirely irrelevant. The knowledge was something the human, burdened with his own injury, did not need right now - especially since the entire reason he was hurt in the first place was his, Legolas's, fault. He should have been more aware, should have reacted faster, should have been protecting his human brother.

"Oh. Well that is true enough I suppose, if it does not bother you to wear it." Aragorn gave the elf a strange look but seemed to buy the story.

"We have only an hour left of daylight." Legolas turned towards the horses and started to walk. "I will make camp, you stay there."

"What?" Aragorn jumped up. "No! I shall help! I have a few cuts; I did not lose my arm nor am I on my deathbed. I will not sit idle whilst you work."

"Fine, do as you please, stubborn human." Legolas tried to sound annoyed but failed. "I will untack the horses and then I must gather firewood before the shadows lengthen. You can unpack and lay out the bedrolls."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The next morning dawned chilly and clear. Legolas rolled over in his bedding and blinked away the fog of sleep. The first thing he noticed was that the hour of his awakening was unusually late. Ordinarily he would be up before the sun, and certainly before Aragorn - but the pale rays falling on his face told him otherwise, and once he propped himself on his elbows he spotted the human sitting beside a freshly kindled fire. Hearing movement, Aragorn looked over and laughed.

"Welcome to the land of the living, Legolas! I was beginning to wonder if I would need to bury you where you lay. Rise, before your breakfast gets cold!"

Legolas snorted and pushed back the covers, shaking his head at the human's silliness. The elf got to his feet and a dull pain rippled its way over his navel before dissipating. Legolas dismissed it although he couldn't help but feel a little surprised that some harmless bruising would cause pain the next day (he knew that it was harmless as he had thoroughly checked it once Aragorn had fallen asleep, and it was as he had suspected, merely superficial surface bruising).

Thinking nothing further of it, Legolas rolled up the bedroll and joined Aragorn beside the fire.

"Here." The human handed him a fire toasted corn cake topped with cold cheese and warm honey. The smell made the elf's stomach growl. Smiling his thanks, Legolas wasted no time in devouring it.

"How do you fare this morning?" he asked in a rather sticky voice, and cleared his throat before taking another bite. Aragorn answered without looking up from his own meal, which he ate only with his right hand. His left lay motionless in his lap.

"I am well." Legolas exhaled softly through his nose and frowned. He took a moment to wipe his face and lick his fingers before answering.

"You surely cannot expect me to believe that, Estel. Those cuts run deep; you cannot deny their severity - and thus you must be in pain."

"And _you_ cannot deny that I have had far worse." Aragorn dodged the accusation with a smirk.

"True." Legolas stood and warmed his hands by the fire. "But still, we must get you home before infection has a chance to set in." He heard a splutter from the human and the young man was suddenly by his side.

"Legolas, no! This is absurd! There is no need - can care for the wounds on my own. I have learned from the best after all." He hoped that referencing his training under Elrond would make the elf see sense.

Legolas groaned in mild annoyance at the human's protests.

"Estel, come on. Do not be so difficult. We should not take the risk."

"Legolas, so few are the occasions upon which we are able to forget our responsibilities and spend time together as friends and brothers, instead of Prince of Mirkwood and… heir to the throne of Gondor." The last words were spoken heavy with resentment. Aragorn turned huge and pleading eyes on the elf. "Surely you would not begrudge me this." He held his breath and waited, unable to hide his satisfaction as, with a huge sigh, Legolas gave in and glared at him.

"Fine. On one condition." The archer folded his arms.

"Ai, here it comes," Aragorn wailed in mock despair. Legolas ignored him and continued unperturbed.

"Before we are to go any further, you will find Athelas, Alfirin, and Carandôl. Also Niphredil - just in case. Should you be successful, you shall allow me to inspect and dress your wounds morning and night. You have one hour."

Aragorn's mouth hung agape for a few dumbfounded moments before the human regained his ability to speak.

"What?" he gasped, "Surely you jest? I cannot possibly -"

"Well then, we shall turn around and leave, for I assure you that I am deadly serious."

Aragorn scowled but then brightened.

"Wait, there should be supplies still in the healing pack!" Legolas sighed again and shot the human a look of clear disapproval.

"Estel, then you have not checked the wounds this morning or you would know that they are all but depleted. Please, you must treat this with more gravity. I will not let you put yourself at even greater risk of infection. Go now, unless you wish to turn back. And when you return, I will check your arm." The elf's tone left no room for argument, and Aragorn knew it.

"Yes, mother." Regardless, he was still not about to go willingly.

"Do not go far," Legolas called after the human, and set about packing their things. All the while he kept a watchful eye on Aragorn as the young man hunted around between the aspens.

The elf had just finished his task and sat down beside the fire to bask in the warm glow when he looked up to check on his friend and found that the human was nowhere to be seen. Anxiously glancing about, Legolas got up and was about to start searching when someone grabbed him from behind. Wrenching himself loose and twirling away as well trained reflexes took control, the elf found himself face to face with Aragorn, who was shaking with laughter.

"Ai, Legolas! I shall lord this over you for many years to come! Seldom is it indeed that I am able to take you by surprise." The human smugly gestured to the healing pack. "Athelas, Alfirin, and Carandôl. Also Niphredil - just in case." He finished the statement with a smirk. "Now, are you ready to leave?"

"Wipe that look from your face and sit down. No-one is going anywhere until your wounds have been seen to."

Presently, the pair were ready to depart. Legolas insisted on giving Aragorn a leg up onto his gelding, and then nimbly swung onto his own mount. A sharp pain shot across him once more and he sighed in annoyance as he settled into the saddle, still not understanding why a bit of bruising would be causing him pain. His thoughts were interrupted by sudden hoofbeats, and Aragorn's gelding galloped past, the human letting out a delighted whoop.

"Catch me if you can, elf!"

"You had better pray that I do not!" Legolas laughed and let his mare go. The little grey may have been slight in stature, but her ground covering stride soon had her tailing the much larger bay. Both elf and human were soon shouting and giggling as they clung to their mounts, each trying to out-manoeuvre the other.

* * *

It was around mid-morning when Legolas felt the pain again. He frowned in annoyance and waited for it to pass - only this time it did not, instead settling around his navel in a mild, dull ache. Uncomfortable, but he had certainly had much worse and so the elf decided to pay it no mind.

An hour or so later, Aragorn called a halt, deciding that it was time for lunch. Legolas hopped lightly from the saddle and set off for the nearest cover, which happened to be a small thicket of brambles.

"Legolas?" Aragorn stopped rummaging in his saddle bags and called after the elf, who waved and kept walking.

"Nature calls, Estel. I will be back in a moment."

Positioning himself behind the thicket, Legolas crouched down out of sight and lifted his shirt. The nagging ache had been growing in intensity and he wished to check himself once more in case he had somehow missed an injury from the day before. The elf could not otherwise explain the discomfort, which at this stage was bothering him more than the pain itself.

Upon inspection, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The bruising was no worse than before, and running careful hands over himself, all the elf found was slight muscle stiffness - which was perfectly explainable. Chewing his lip in vexation, he lowered the shirt and returned to Aragorn.

* * *

It was growing late in the day and Legolas shaded his eyes from the sun as he scanned the horizon for a suitable campsite. Over the course of the afternoon, the pain had grown steadily worse and had brought with it a feeling of general malaise. He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, succeeding only in provoking a wave of nausea. _Not good_. They needed to stop for the night, and soon. Legolas was not sure for how much longer he would be able to compose himself if the sickness worsened, and vomiting in front of Aragorn, should it come to that, would blow his cover in the worst way imaginable. Already he had broken into a light sweat, and he shivered slightly as a cold droplet ran down his neck and into his damp shirt. His gut gave a sharp twinge and he winced but dared not shift position again. He hoped desperately that his face had not lost colour, and was thankful that Aragorn rode in front and thus was not watching him.

Soon, Legolas spotted a copse of willows beside a stream, and called out.

"Estel, I have found us a suitable area to make camp, roughly a mile from here."

"Already? There is still daylight remaining!"

"Aye, we are not in any rush to reach a specific destination, and it would be enjoyable to simply relax in front of a warm fire. Do you not agree?"

"I cannot argue with that." Legolas heard the lighthearted reply and was relieved that he would not have to resort to using the human's injury as reason to stop. Aragorn would have protested it and the elf hadn't the energy for an argument. Now, Iluvatar willing, he just had to hold out long enough to reach the campsite.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Legolas was beginning to feel very ill indeed by the time they reached the campsite, and almost immediately dismounted and excused himself to gather firewood, not trusting the nausea in front of Aragorn for one more moment. He managed just in time to find some privacy before his stomach revolted and he doubled over as it emptied its contents.

Once it was over, Legolas drew in a shaky breath and straightened, scrubbing a hand over his face and wrinkling his nose in disgust. The elf groaned and shifted - the pain was ever-present and retching had only aggravated it. Mercifully though, it seemed to have relieved the nausea, and that already had him feeling a lot better. Rolling his shoulders and doing his best to calm himself, Legolas walked the few paces to the stream and carefully knelt to splash his face and rinse his mouth. The water was delightfully cool against his clammy skin and he soon felt refreshed, whereupon he got up and set about collecting wood.

Aragorn greeted the elf with a smile and a wave as he returned to camp, carrying an armload of small branches, and Legolas smiled back - partly in fondness for his friend, but even more so in relief. The human had clearly not seen or heard anything earlier and Legolas planned to ensure that it remained that way. If the human found him out, he would insist on dragging him home and the elf could not have that happen. It was not often that they had the opportunity to adventure together, and Legolas knew how much Aragorn needed it - knew how much _he_ needed it. Whatever this affliction was, he would simply ride it out as tactfully as possible, and the human would, with a bit of luck, remain none the wiser.

While helping unpack their things, Legolas stole a quick glance at the healing pack, wondering if they had anything for pain and sickness. Fortunately he had still to dress the human's wounds, and so would have a plausible excuse to rifle through the contents later without raising suspicion. His luck seemed to be holding out so far.

The elf soon had a fire going and placed their little tin kettle over the flames to heat while he retrieved the healing pack.

"Estel? Come here please, it is once again time to uphold your side of our bargain."

"Truly, Legolas?" Aragorn appeared from behind his gelding and groaned. "Now?"

"Aye, now. While there is light still. Unless of course," the elf added, "you wish to do it in the dark, where it is sure to take at least _twice_ as long." Legolas was rewarded with a loud huff as Aragorn sat down beside him.

"Do your worst."

"Nay, Estel! I will do my best!" The elf's sincere tone had the human roaring with laughter, and Legolas realised that he had been so distracted by the constant pain that he had missed the other's sarcasm. He shook his head in his best imitation of amusement, and waited for his friend to sober.

Helping the human out of his tunic and shirt, Legolas saw how all at once the young man became serious, lines of pain forming on his face. This alone sent a fresh wave of pain through the elf and he let out a small, sad sigh as he gently took Aragorn's arm in his lap and carefully unwrapped the bandages. He frowned, seeing the red and angry looking cuts lacing the human's skin. Worried that infection was setting in, he reached out and palmed Aragorn's forehead, ignoring his friend's surprised face. The skin was cool, cold even, and Legolas drew back in relief.

"Legolas?" It was the elf's turn to look surprised as Aragorn captured the archer's hand in his own. "You are warm, my friend. Are you well?" Legolas froze. _Curses. Foolish, foolish, foolish!_ He had forgotten to take his own, obviously elevated body temperature into account before touching the human. _Legolas, you imbecile. Think, lest you wish to be discovered!_

"Yes, yes I am well." Legolas withdrew his hand with what he hoped was an easy smile, taking care to ensure that his movements were casual, unhurried. "I believe you are merely cold, thus I appear warm to you. The sun will be setting soon and there is a chill in the air. I will do this as fast as I am able and then we shall get you dressed and stoke up the fire." Aragorn chuckled good naturedly and ruffled the elf's hair, but did not deny the accusation, and Legolas was able to finish dressing the wounds without further incident.

Aragorn got up then to gather ingredients for their supper, and Legolas finally had some time to himself - which he intended to make good use of. While he had been tending to the human, the elf had carefully noted the contents of the healing pack, and had kept aside some supplies which he hoped would be of some use to him. Most of the pack's contents were aimed at wound treatment, and Legolas's options were limited. He had at least been able to find a few generalised remedies, essentials that could be found in almost any healing pack - they were not much but they were better than nothing, and Legolas supposed that were he to get a little relief, he would be able to forage for more potent herbs.

Reaching into his own pack, the elf retrieved a small mug into which he added the crushed ingredients. Ginger root, peppermint leaf, and white willow bark. He hoped the last item would be enough to take the edge off his pain, for he was not sure that he would be able to find anything stronger. Picking up the kettle from where it lay nestled in the coals, he poured water into the cup and sat back, cradling it between his palms. The remedy needed time to steep before it could be consumed, but the warmth was soothing and took his mind off his discomfort. Suddenly remembering something, he dug around in his pack once more and added a dollop of honey to the mixture, hoping that it would mask the taste. The steam rising up into his face did not smell too bad though, and he brought the mug to his lips in a tentative sip.

"Legolas! I have found potatoes!" The elf nearly choked on his tea at the human's joyous shout. "Come! Help me dig them up and we shall have ourselves a fine supper indeed!" With a groan, Legolas downed the contents of the cup, hoping they would stay put, and got up. Pain lanced through him and he could not help the small gasp that escaped him as his arms flew to his middle. "C-coming! Coming, Estel."

Xx

"And then Elrohir ran through the hall, naked as a babe, screaming "Bats! There are bats in my bath towels!" Elladan was not allowed into the bathing house for a week after that. He had to bathe in a bucket in his room."

"Ai, those two. They will never learn, but that is why we love them so." Legolas's eyes danced as he laughed, a clear, bright sound in the darkness of the night.

"Indeed," Aragorn agreed through a mouthful of baked potato. "Are you going to eat that?"

"Oh." Legolas looked down at his own, barely touched food that he had been pushing around the plate. "Aye, just a little more and then it is yours." He stuffed one more bite into his mouth and forced himself to chew and swallow before passing the plate to his friend. He needed the human to see him eat or he would surely raise the young man's suspicion - and concern. "I snacked on lembas while you were gone, sorry." He tried to look sheepish, and shifted position for the umpteenth time, hoping for the pain to subside - or at least lessen. In fact, he'd happily settle for it to simply stop growing worse.

Once they had bedded down for the night, Legolas lay quietly on his bedroll and stared at the stars. His head rested lightly against Aragorn's chest, and he was comforted by the human's soft, steady breathing and the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat. Legolas had watched as the human had grown from boy to man; been there as their friendship had blossomed with it. And even now that Aragorn had seen his twenty seventh birthday, making him a little older than Legolas as far as humans went, he would forever be the elf's little brother and the archer would never stop protecting him - and now that Aragorn was injured it just gave him even more reason to do so.

As if on cue, Aragorn twitched and must have jarred his arm, for he gave a small whine of pain which tore at the elf's heart, and Legolas put a gentle hand on the young man's chest to soothe him. For now, the archer was content just to watch over Aragorn and be close to him, for the pain would surely keep him from sleep. Biting his cheek and breathing deeply as it flared up and throbbed angrily, Legolas ran his hands over his belly and settled them just below his navel, rolling onto his side and bringing his knees to his chest. It was the only thing that seemed to help.

He must have drifted off, for some time late in the night, Legolas awoke. _Pain._ That was the first thing he became aware of. The elf shut his eyes tightly and sucked in a breath, just in time holding back a whimper as he realised that his head still rested on Aragorn's chest. _Heat. Sweat._ Those were the next things. His skin was drenched and his clothes clung damply to him. Legolas knew that he needed to take something for what was clearly a climbing fever, and he had to do it without waking Aragorn.

Carefully, Legolas raised his head and rolled over until he was propped up on one elbow. His head swam and the elf remained motionless until it passed, then quietly he slid out from under his blanket and dizzily wobbled to his feet. _Oh. Bad idea._ A rush of pain and sickness swamped his senses, and he realised with alarm that he was about to be ill. _Find cover, find cover, find cover._ With surprising speed, Legolas made a mad dash towards the willow grove, praying that he would make it in time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

He had barely made it to the safety of the trees before it started. White-hot pain ripped across his middle with such furious intensity that his shaky legs gave way. He pitched forward straight for the tree, but managed at the last moment to catch himself against the trunk with the arm not wrapped around himself. His stomach rolled again and cold sweat pricked his skin as the nausea rose, making him shut his eyes and swallow thickly as his fingernails carved furrows into the rough bark.

Another lurch of his stomach sent a fresh wave of agony shooting through him, finally pushing him off the edge. He coughed before violently retching, losing his battle against the nausea - along with what little he'd managed to eat. Pressing his forehead into the cool tree trunk, he moaned quietly in between what were now dry heaves, desperately willing the spasms to abate. When they finally did, he remained motionless, having not the energy to move as he sucked in huge ragged breaths and spat out bile.

Eventually he straightened as much as he could, gathered his strength, and turned to head back, but instead he startled and stumbled backwards - letting out a pained gasp as he did so. He raised his eyes and his heart sank at the alarmed grey ones that stared back at him.

"...Estel." And then the retching started up again with no warning. Having nothing to hold him up this time, his legs buckled and he plummeted towards the ground.

The elf never connected with the earth, as a pair of strong arms almost instantly encircled him and carefully eased him onto his hands and knees, whereupon a hand began to rub soothing circles over his back whilst another held back his hair. And when it was over, the arms caught him as his own collapsed.

"Legolas! Look at me! What is happening?" Aragorn's voice had leaped up an octave and the young man sounded on the verge of panic. "Talk to me, Legolas!"

"Sick," the elf gasped, dry heaving again with a sob of misery. "Know not why." He rolled back onto his haunches and sat down, wrapping his arms around himself and shivering.

"Woke up. Fever. Needed medicine. Sick."

Aragorn crouched down, placing an arm securely around Legolas's shoulders.

"Medicine," the archer ground out, "Will pass. Be alright. Do not worry for me. Just need… medicine." Breathing hard, the elf tried to regain his composure. His eyes were glassy with fever and sweat poured off him. Aragorn could feel the heat emanating from his friend and quietly swore.

"Can you stand? We need to get you cleaned up."

"Think so." Legolas nodded and Aragorn pulled him gently to his feet, supporting the elf as he swayed and closed his eyes. "Will be alright in a moment," the archer murmured.

Had Aragorn not been so worried, he might have snorted in disbelief. Drenched in sweat and shivering, clothes spattered with vomit and wet hair clinging to his pale face as he clung to his stomach with both arms, Legolas looked the very antithesis of alright. Aragorn grasped him a little tighter, already running an extensive mental checklist of possible causes for the elf's sudden sickness.

Once they were back at the little campsite, Aragorn carefully settled Legolas onto his bedroll and placed his hands on the elf's shoulders.

"Where is it?"

"What?" The confusion in the elf's tone was genuine, and Aragorn frowned, thinking it to be the fever.

"The wound, Legolas! Clearly it is infected!"

The elf flinched and hissed as the human's fingers reached for the laces of his tunic, and curled in on himself.

"No! Hurts. No wound!"

"What hurts?"

"Skin. Burning. Everywhere." Legolas was struggling to get words out through his chattering teeth, and tried to clench his jaw, embarrassed.

"That is the fever," Aragorn explained, his voice now low and soothing, "I need to get your tunic off, it will help." Legolas did not immediately reply, clearly conflicted, but then he mumbled something in a small voice that carried a hint of hopefulness.

"Truly?"

"Truly. Do you trust me, Legolas?" The elf nodded and with visible effort, he sat up a little and tried to help the human with the laces, though his hands were clumsy and got in the way.

"There is no wound?" Aragorn's nimble fingers moved fast and the laces were quickly loosening, exposing the light cotton shirt beneath.

"No wound!" Legolas sounded exasperated at having to repeat himself.

"But there has to be a wound! Legolas, now is not the time for stubborn elvish pride - you must tell me so that I may help you!" The elf shook his head in response, looking troubled. "Estel, there is none. I was unhurt yesterday and hid no wound."

"You must have missed it, Legolas. Ai, Morgoth's balls! I should have checked you myself."

Ill though he may have been, Legolas found the strength to shoot Aragorn a black look.

"I checked, thoroughly. There is nothing." The elf gave a small groan as the human eased off his tunic and started on the shirt. The young man looked deeply troubled.

"Then Legolas, I need you to think carefully and answer some questions for me. Is there any way at all that you could have been poisoned?" Legolas shook his head.

"Nay. I have been over this time and time again since I started feeling unwell, and I can think of no explanation, neither poison nor otherwise." Legolas winced and raised his arms as the shirt was lifted off him, leaving the elf clad only in leggings and boots. His skin glowed softly in the moonlight as Aragorn gently helped him to lie down on the bedroll. The human frowned, seeing the bruising over the elf's abdomen.

"Is this where it hurts?" Legolas squirmed and grimaced as Aragorn's fingers made contact.

"Aye! I mean, no, not the bruising itself. I - Ai Valar!" He cried out again as Aragorn drew away, grasping at his midsection. The elf panted and shut his eyes, a look of alarm rapidly forming on his face. "Estel, sick!" Aragorn had only a moment to wonder what his friend meant, before Legolas rolled over and started retching again - the human could do nothing but provide comfort until it had passed. Tears leaked from the elf's eyes and his breath came in shallow gasps.

"Sorry, Estel," he mumbled, "So sorry."

"Why are you sorry, Legolas?" Aragorn was incredulous as he continued rubbing the archer's back.

"Ruined everything. Just wanted to have fun. Got… Got you hurt. Got sick. I -" But Aragorn hushed him before he could say anything further.

"That is not true, my friend." The human's hand moved from back to shoulder and gave a light squeeze. "You did not choose any of this, and my injury is through no fault of yours. Elbereth Gilthoniel, Legolas!" Aragorn paled. "Please do not tell me that you have been ill all this time but have said nothing out of misplaced guilt!" The elf initially did not answer and Aragorn was about to give him a gentle nudge, when the archer smiled ruefully.

"Not all this time, no. Since… afternoon. Only worsened this evening though." Legolas chewed his lip as he saw the look on Aragorn's face. "Thought… Thought it was… not serious. Wait it out." Oh. Clearly that had not helped. Aragorn looked even more aggravated now... "You had enough to deal with! Hurt." Definitely not helping. Legolas looked away, hugging himself tightly in agitation.

Aragorn reached out to gently unwrap the elf's arms, holding a damp cloth in one hand.

"Never think such things, Legolas! You are precious to me and it pains me that you should hide illness on my part. I wish always to know the truth." He applied the cloth to the archer's chest, who flinched and groaned before settling and allowing the human to start wiping him down. "Forgive me, my friend," he apologised, as Legolas squirmed again and shuddered. "It is unpleasant, I know. But your fever is too high and this is a necessary evil."

While Aragorn worked over the elf's torso, he secretly checked for injuries in case the prince had missed anything, however he found none and was simultaneously relieved and dismayed. He sighed, gripping the cloth tightly in frustration. Time was of the essence and now precious seconds would need to be spent trying to discover what ailed the elf.

"I still feel that poison is the most obvious cause for your illness…"

"Estel, we have had this conversation."

"Nevertheless, I need you to go over some things with me yet."

Legolas nodded wearily and closed his eyes, shrugging his shoulders slightly in resignation.

"Has anything broken your skin recently? Perhaps the prick of a thorn or the sting or bite of an insect?"

"Not that I am aware of."

"Have you eaten anything other than the meals we have shared?"

"No." Aragorn paused and rubbed his temples.

"Perhaps something you have touched?"

"Unlikely. There would be a rash."

"Then perhaps you have unknowingly drank from a contaminated source." Legolas raised an eyebrow at this but did not open his eyes.

"I think not. For if it was so, you would be ill too."

"Maybe your waterskin is unclean - let me see it!"

"Enough, Estel. It is not poison, there is not -" The elf stopped and scrunched up his face, swallowing consciously as he raised a hand to his mouth.

"Legolas? Are you going to - " Aragorn's alarmed voice was interrupted by the archer holding up his free hand for silence. He was frozen in place, clearly concentrating intensely.

After a few moments he relaxed, opening his eyes and drawing in a slow, deep breath. His hand settled on the bedding once more.

"Mercifully, no," he said quietly, answering Aragorn's question. "At least… Not right this minute." He grimaced and shifted. Aragorn laid a palm on the elf's forehead, and Legolas did not miss the soft curse and intake of breath. "Increased." He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the chattering of his teeth. Though it had been a statement, Aragorn nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger and closing his eyes. The human did this when trying to curb feelings of intense anxiety, Legolas knew, and he reached up, wanting to reassure his friend.

Aragorn exhaled slowly as the elf gripped his knee, and then he took the slender hand in his own and squeezed. The human looked calm and collected now, and Legolas drew comfort from this.

"My friend, you are burning up. I am sorry to ask this of you, but the leggings…" Aragorn saw the look of discomfort cross the elf's face as the archer realised what was coming. "Legolas, I need to cool you. There are major arteries that run down the inner thighs."

"I know." The elf cut him off reluctantly, resting the back of his arm over his face so as not to meet the human's eyes. "Do it."

"Can you roll onto your back for me? It will be easier that way." Legolas groaned but carefully did as asked, and Aragorn unlaced and pulled off each of the elf's boots, spongeing the cool cloth over each foot before kneeling at the prince's hip. He reached for the laces on the front of the garment and felt Legolas stiffen at his touch. The elf winced as he forced himself up on his elbows.

"I can do it." His cheeks were red and the blond kept his eyes focused on his shaking hands as they fumbled with the laces. Aragorn knew how much the proud being hated to be vulnerable, and so he did not interfere - until, that is, the elf fell backwards with a pained gasp, task unfinished. He tried to sit up again but only managed to provoke a fresh wave of dry heaving, whereafter he lay still, trying to catch his breath between muttered curses.

Aragorn gave the elf some time and then leaned in to wipe his mouth.

"How many times?" he asked gently.

"Only one… other. Before tonight. Collecting… firewood." Legolas sighed.

"You really ought to have come to me." Aragorn sounded sad. "I could have helped, and perhaps it would not have come to this."

Legolas shrank back with a wince, and Aragorn realised how the archer must have interpreted his words. "Nay, Legolas! There is no blame here! I mean only that mayhap you would not now be suffering so." Palming the elf's forehead again, Aragorn groaned. "This cannot wait any longer, I need to cool you." He rewet the cloth and made a quick pass over Legolas's chest and then set the rag down, his fingers picking up the laces on the elf's leggings. This time, Legolas made no move to stop him and the laces were quickly loosened. "Here, hold this in place." Aragorn placed a folded blanket over the archer's hips and then took hold of the waistband and gently tugged the leggings and undergarment down, with Legolas tilting his pelvis upward to make the human's job easier. The action drew a sharp intake of breath from the elf however, and his hands flew to his navel.

"Moving aggravates it?" Legolas grunted an affirmative as Aragorn eased the clothing down his legs. Picking up the cloth once more, the human busied himself with dampening the elf's inner thighs, methodically covering every exposed inch of skin. While he worked, he kept up a stream of conversation with the archer so as to monitor his state.

"How is the nausea?"

"Constant. But not overwhelmingly so at present." Aragorn hummed, mulling something over in his mind. "What is it, Estel?"

"You need to drink; replenish what you have lost through sickness and fever." At that, Aragorn felt Legolas tense up.

"I cannot! I shall be ill again should I try." The human frowned - judging by his condition, the elf had a point. But the stark fact remained that Legolas needed fluids. The elf had vomited until he had nothing left, and that coupled with the amount of sweat pouring off him meant the archer was on his way to becoming dangerously dehydrated.

"Small sips." It was the best counter Aragorn could come up with. "I will add medicine to it to help with the sickness. Please, you must try."

"Do not wish to be ill again. Hurts." Legolas fidgeted anxiously, looking conflicted. "But if the medicine will help… Ai!" he suddenly exclaimed, "But we have few supplies left that would be of use for sickness."

"How do you know this?" Aragorn sounded surprised.

"Earlier. Took a few things to help. Ginger, peppermint, and willow bark." The man nodded, inwardly cursing his failure to have carried anything more potent.

"I will have a look through my pack. There may be extra."

With a last pass over the elf's legs, Aragorn put down the cloth and checked his friend's temperature. He found it reduced, though not nearly as much as he had hoped for - but it was enough for now. Without drying the skin, he pulled the elf's undergarment back up, making the archer squirm in discomfort.

"I am sorry, Legolas. If I dry you, the cooling effect of the water will be lost. It is better this way." Aragorn stood up and the archer raised his head.

"Where are you going?"

"To fetch you a clean shirt. Yours requires a wash."

"Leggings?" the elf enquired hopefully, "Cold."

"No, I am afraid not." Aragorn shook his head as he dug through his pack. "Not with your fever as high as it is. If it reduces more, then perhaps."

"Ai." Legolas gave a woeful sigh. "Lady luck does not favour me this night." He received a gentle hand on his shoulder by way of reply, as the human crouched beside him, holding a white cotton shirt.

"Can you sit up?" Legolas opened his mouth to answer that yes, he could, but then paused with a frown.

"Do you need me to help?" The elf hesitated before giving a quiet hum of agreement.

"Moving pains me. Causes sickness. Easier if you help."

"Here, lean forward." Aragorn carefully helped to ease the elf into a sitting position. As the archer bent at the waist though, he could not prevent the pained hiss that escaped him, nor the hand that darted to his mouth as he shut his eyes.

"That bad?" Aragorn was clearly alarmed. Legolas nodded quickly, busy focusing on trying to take slow, deep breaths. "Ai, Legolas, I am sorry. I wish that it were me instead."

"No. No, you do not." The elf had gained control over his stomach and shook his head vehemently, groaning when it brought on a flash of head pain. "I am an elf, thus my constitution is stronger. I shudder to think of the effects this affliction would have in a human."

"Still, it pains me to see you so."

"And it pains me to be so." Legolas made a face and tried to lighten the mood. Aragorn did not seem to notice the elf's attempt at humour though, and continued to look worried. "Estel, would you help me with the shirt? I still do not wish to move."

Once the shirt was on, Aragorn left the elf propped up against their packs, and went about trying to get together something for his friend to drink. Something that he would hopefully hold down… He filled the kettle with cool, clear river water and nestled it between the still-glowing coals of the fire, then opened their healing pack and started sorting through the contents, setting aside all that he could use. Unsatisfied still, the human moved on to his personal pack, his searching soon growing feverish. By the time he had found something, his injured arm was screaming at him, and he sat down heavily to catch his breath. Among the supplies, Aragorn had found cloves, which could prove useful when added to the other ingredients. But the crowning glory had been the Carandôl that Legolas had so insisted he collect - ironically it would now be needed by the elf himself. Aragorn gathered his supplies together and began grinding them into a thick paste, glancing up at Legolas every so often.

"How do you fare?" Aragorn knelt beside the archer, carrying a steaming cup of what Legolas's senses told him was medicine. The smell made his throat close and he turned his head away.

"No worse and no better than before. Cold." The human palmed his friend's forehead and found the fever to be rising again, much to his dismay.

"You need to drink this, it will help." Aragorn brought the cup closer, causing Legolas to swallow and ball his fists. "The smell sickens you?" the human guessed. "I am sorry, my friend. Can you please try a little? You need this. Little sips every few minutes will suffice." Legolas groaned lightly but took the cup, staring down at the rising steam as he willed his body to calm. At Aragorn's encouragement, he raised it unsteadily to his lips and let a tiny trickle of the liquid flow onto his tongue, holding it in his mouth while he tried to remember how to swallow. Eventually his body cooperated, and Legolas swallowed a few more sips, then tensely waited for the medicine to make a reappearance, yet it did not - for now.

A stab of pain tore through his abdomen and Legolas hunched over with an audible whimper, liquid sloshing from the cup as Aragorn rescued it before it could fall. When the elf recovered and raised his head, ashen-faced, Aragorn held out the mug once more. "Just a little more so that the herbs can get to work. Then I shall ask no more of you for now." Legolas tipped his head skyward, eyes slipping closed as his arms wrapped around his middle. Aragorn did not miss the tears that shimmered on his cheeks.

"Just a little more," he agreed weakly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Crickets chirped a soft lullaby as Aragorn kept his lonely vigil. The human raised a hand to rub at his eyes, trying to resist the heavy weight of sleep that tugged at his consciousness. He had succeeded in slowly feeding the contents of the cup to Legolas, who thanks to a very generous dose of valerian root, was sleeping quietly beside him, his head cradled in the young man's lap. The elf still shivered, and once in a while the archer would whine in pain, but overall he seemed a little better. Aragorn palmed his forehead for the umpteenth time and then pulled a blanket over the sleeping prince before shrugging on one of his own. Though Legolas remained feverish, he was cooler than before and the human hadn't the heart to make his friend sleep in the cold. Instead, he would simply monitor the fever and adjust the elf's cover as necessary.

Aragorn yawned again. His eyes were closing of their own accord now and he knew that he would not be able to fight sleep for much longer. He needed it, he knew, if he was to remain alert later, and so the human decided that he would get a little rest now whilst the situation remained relatively calm. First light would wake him anyway, and since the elf slept in such close proximity to himself, Aragorn knew that he would awake should a problem arise. He adjusted the packs he was leaning against, drew the blanket closer around his shoulders, and finally allowed himself to drift off.

The human was jolted into sharp wakefulness and immediately his heart sank. On hands and knees, Legolas was knelt beside him, losing all that remained of the medicine in his stomach. Aragorn shot up to help, pulling the elf's hair back and doing his best to comfort his friend. As soon as he touched the archer, Aragorn realised with dismay that Legolas's fever was once again soaring. A quick glance at the sky told the human that he had slept for about an hour, which made it less than two hours since Legolas had gotten the medicine - and that meant it should still be working. But as he watched the elf shake with fever and with the spasms that still assaulted his stomach, Aragorn could plainly see that for whatever reason, it was not helping any longer.

It seemed an age before Legolas sat back and scrubbed at his face before casting the human an apologetic look.

"Forgive me, Estel." His voice was hoarse and raw, and the elf winced and swallowed.

"Whatever for?" Aragorn released the flaxen gold hair and tucked it behind a pointed ear.

"Woke you up." Legolas shuddered and made a face. "Need to rinse my mouth." He tried to get up but sank back down with a soft curse. Aragorn was quick to settle him onto the bedroll, and Legolas did not protest.

"Legolas, I _need_ to wake up if you are this ill. And I will fetch you something to rinse with - please just stay where you are." The elf nodded meekly in reply and watched the human go.

"Here, water with a little peppermint." Legolas accepted the cup gratefully and rinsed before passing it back to Aragon, who once again turned to go. "I made extra medicine before - I will go and ready another dose. And then we must cool you." _Before your fever causes you to seize._ Aragorn had seen it happen before with patients under Elrond's care - in fact it had once happened to Elrohir in the aftermath of a poisoned wound. Aragorn had been much younger then, barely out of boyhood, but he would never forget the sight of the dark-haired elf thrashing and twitching violently on the floor after he had fallen from the bed, his lips turning blue as the convulsions prevented him from drawing breath. Although it had eventually passed without incident and Elrohir had made a full recovery, it had left Aragorn very shaken - it was _not_ something he wanted to see a repeat performance of with Legolas. "I will return soon."

Legolas mumbled something and curled in on himself, trying vainly to rid himself of the cold that held him in an icy grip. He knew it to be a symptom of the fever, but the knowledge alone did nothing to make it any more bearable. And so, after making sure that Aragorn's back was turned, the elf reached out and pulled his blanket over his shoulders. _Just for a minute. Just to gain a little warmth._

All too soon, the archer's cover was ripped off him and he came face to face with an alarmed human.

"Estel, give it back!" he cried, making a feeble swipe at the blanket, which the young man quickly jerked out of his reach. "Cold!" Aragorn shook his head.

"No, Legolas," he said firmly, "I know you are cold, but you and I both know that it is the fever making you feel so. And you know better than to cover yourself with a high fever." The human sighed, his sternness evaporating as he saw the look on the elf's face.

"Sorry," Legolas whispered, a tear escaping his eye and running down his cheek. "Just wished to be warm. Cold. So cold. Hurts." _Ai Valar._ Aragorn did not need to touch his friend to see that the fever was still on the rise and that it was affecting his mind. Something needed to be done, and soon.

"Legolas, hush." Aragorn tenderly massaged the elf's shoulders for a moment, relieved when no further tears made an appearance. "I am not angry with you. I want only to help. It is alright. Here, you need to drink as much of this as you are able." He tried to get the archer to accept the medicine, but the elf shook his head miserably.

"Sick. Don't want." Aragorn sighed, cursing the stubbornness of the Eldar. He decided to try another tactic, hoping Legolas would bite. In the elf's current state, it might just work.

"Legolas, you are cold, yes? This is warm; it will help." The elf frowned, and his brows knit as his soggy brain tried to work out if he was being tricked.

"Fine," he agreed, and began to mechanically swallow as fast as he could. Aragorn's eyes widened and he reached out to slow the archer lest he make himself sick again, but then thought better of it. If Legolas could keep the medicine down for long enough, it would be far more potent than having him take in small amounts over time. He just hoped the elf would indeed be able to hold it down. Legolas soon finished and handed the empty cup back to the human, who nodded his approval. He watched the elf carefully, waiting for him to show signs of an impending bout of sickness, but for now he seemed stable.

"I will give you a moment and then we must lower this fever, my friend. It is far too high and you will feel so much better once it is lowered."

Aragorn was halfway through spongeing the elf's chest when without warning Legolas went rigid, abruptly bringing up the medicine all over himself and the human.

"Ai, Estel, I am so sorry!" Clearly distraught, the elf dropped his head into his hands. "Tried so hard not to. But too sick. Couldn't control. Forgive me. I am ashamed." Aragorn cupped the elf's chin in his hand and tipped his head so that blue eyes met grey, and the human felt his heart break at the tears that were once again present.

"Legolas, no. It is not like that - stop apologising."

"Sorry." The elf averted his gaze, raising a hand to rub at his face. Aragorn opened his mouth but shut it again, sighing.

"Let us get you cleaned up and we will simply try again. Under the tongue this time, then you cannot purge it out. I will distill a stronger dose. Be calm and let me help."

"But you. I -"

"What, this?' Aragorn held up a section of his cloak. "It is fine. My clothes remain clean - it is just this spot." _It is not like you even had anything other than the medication to purge anyway_ , he thought sadly. "And fortunately for you, you wear only your undergarments. It really is alright, my friend - do not feel guilt over such a trivial thing. Now -" he was interrupted as Legolas let out a loud hiss and clutched his side.

"Estel, it grows worse!"

"Worse?" Aragorn felt the blood drain from his face. "Legolas, let me see. Move your hands." With a visible effort, the archer complied, exposing soft, pale skin. "Where is the pain exactly? Can you show me with two fingers?" Frowning, Legolas gestured across his navel, but then paused with a sharp intake of breath, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. His hand lowered and his fingers settled near his right hip.

"Here," he said softly. "New. Worse." He cracked his eyes open and looked searchingly at the human. "Please tell me that this means something to you."

"I am not sure yet." This time, it was Aragorn's turn to frown. "I need to touch - may I do that?"

"It is not exactly as though I have a choice." Legolas sounded defeated. "Make haste and get it over with." He shuddered as a drop of sweat rolled down his neck. Aragorn nodded.

"I need you to lie down for me first. Here, I will help you." Once he had the elf lying on his back, the human gently placed his hands over Legolas's navel. The elf stiffened at the contact and Aragorn gave him a moment to collect himself before slowly pressing down and moving towards the right hip, apologising as the archer moaned softly.

"Do you… find anything?"

"I do not yet know. It is tense; perhaps swollen - I know not why…" Absently, Aragorn released the pressure under his hands, and was not prepared for the elf's sudden cry of agony as he bolted upright and hunched over protectively. His cries of pain were coming in sobs and Aragorn anxiously tried to get his friend's attention. "Legolas? Legolas, what is it? You must tell me!"

"Mu-much worse when hand...hands moved." The elf was struggling to get his words out.

"Your pain was worsened when I moved my hands _away_? Legolas, that makes no sense…"

"I know not why, Estel! _Ai Valar_." Legolas's voice was muffled by his drawn-up knees.

Aragorn placed his hands on the elf's shoulders and Legolas tilted his tear-streaked face up to make eye contact.

"Legolas, is there anything at all that I have missed? Please try to think." Fevered though he was, Legolas did not miss the hint of desperation carried in the young man's voice. He shivered and shifted his position slightly.

"Cannot recall anything. You have seen… seen everything." Aragorn nodded again, his hands never leaving his friend's burning shoulders.

"Worsening pain on the right side, nausea and vomiting, increasing fever, and yet pain worsens on _removal_ of pressure…" The words were muttered fast as the human mused out loud. Suddenly though, he stopped, eyes wide. Legolas felt the grip on his shoulders tighten like a vice. "Legolas! I must examine you one more time." The elf groaned loudly.

"Estel, I would really rather you did not…"

"Nay, Legolas! For once, just _listen_ to me without protest!" Aragorn had not meant to snap at his friend, but judging by the confusion and fear on the archer's face, the words had taken effect. "Legolas, I am sorry. But this is important - I must check something."

"I know, Estel." A heavy sigh. "But that tone of voice… You are very worried about something."

Regretfully, the human nodded.

"Hopefully needlessly so. Please lie back once more." Aragorn lightly ran his hands over the pale stomach, pausing below the hip. "Think carefully now. You are absolutely certain that the pain is here?" Legolas nodded nervously in response. "Then forgive me, my friend, for I must test this one more time." Before Legolas could react, the human had pressed down firmly.

"Estel no, please! - " The elf did not get to finish what he was going to say, for Aragorn abruptly withdrew his hands, and the resulting wave of agony stole the archer's breath from his lungs. Tears sprung once more to his eyes and he was only dimly aware of Aragorn's uninjured arm as it pulled him in and held him close.

When Legolas recovered himself, he saw that the human's thumb and forefinger once again grasped the bridge of the man's nose, and the elf's chest tightened with anxiety. "Estel, what is it?" He almost dared not ask, but he had to know. In response, Aragorn merely shook his head, and Legolas pressed him again, more urgently this time. "Estel, I _must_ know!" He gingerly rolled onto his side and stared expectantly at the young human until the man sighed heavily.

"No, Legolas. I cannot burden you. But we must make for home with haste at first light."

"No, Estel! Not before you tell me! I can bear it. Not knowing is the greater evil, truly." The archer grabbed the human's arm as the man tried to rise, and Aragorn was surprised at the strength in the elf's grip even as his arm shook. "Please. I wish to know."

The thumb and forefinger tightened and the human looked away before seating himself once more.

"I have seen this in a human that father treated once… Legolas, I think it may be side sickness." The words came out as barely a whisper.

"I do not know this sickness." Legolas's brows knit, and he let out a soft groan as a new wave of pain flared in his tortured side. "Elves do not take ill as humans do!"

"This is no ordinary illness. It is the inflammation of part of the gut."

"But how?" The elf's confusion intensified. "I do not understand, Estel…"

"Usually something becomes lodged in the gut so as to cause it. But in rare cases, blunt trauma… I can only suppose that when you fell yesterday, you landed hard enough and in such a way as to injure yourself."

"But Lord Elrond can treat it and soon I will be well! Do not worry so, Estel!" Legolas gave the human's arm a light squeeze. "Why do you not answer?" And then it dawned on the elf as he saw the tremble in his friend's hands. "The human, he did not…"

This time both arms encircled the archer, and though Aragorn said nothing, Legolas had his answer. The human was relieved that the archer did not press him, for in truth he did not trust himself to speak. Eventually, he drew away with a last squeeze of the elf's shoulders.

"You will get through this, Legolas." _I will get you through this. I have to._ "Will you be alright here whilst I prepare more medicine?" The elf nodded and shivered.

"Clothing?"

"Nay, I am sorry. Your fever is too high. If it reduces some then maybe." Aragorn paused and picked up a waterskin that lay nearby, then poured some of the contents into the medicine cup. "I must go now. Drink this slowly and call for me if you think you may be ill again."

"Don't say that, Estel," Legolas groaned. "Feel sick enough as it is without being reminded…"

"Ah. Sorry, my friend." Aragorn made a sympathetic grimace, helping to prop the elf into a more comfortable position and then standing. "I will not be far." An idea had just come into the human's mind, and he picked up a few extra supplies from the pack before beginning his task. Legolas would not like this; of this there was no doubt in his mind - but drastic situations called for drastic measures, and he had a plan that just might work to combat the fever and sickness. If Legolas was indeed afflicted with side sickness, he had to stop the vomiting all the more urgently. The gut could ultimately rupture, he knew, and the continued spasms would only raise the elf's risk.

Some time later, the young human returned to his friend's bedside to find the elf in a fitful sleep. The cup of water seemed a little less full and sleep was granting the archer a temporary respite from his suffering - Aragorn felt a pang of guilt at the thought of waking him. A quick check of the archer's forehead, however, and the human's mind was made up - Legolas needed the medicine and he needed it _now_. He gently shook the elf's shoulder. "Legolas, it is time to wake up. I have medicine that will help you." The blue eyes fluttered open, and the archer blinked owlishly up at the human, before his face blanched.

"Hurts, Estel. Feel ill."

"I know, Legolas." Aragorn kept his voice low and soothing despite his inner turmoil. "But this will help. Open your mouth and lift your tongue." The elf's eyes were slipping closed again, and Aragorn nudged him and repeated the instruction. When it was done, Legolas murmured something and made a face, swallowing a few times as his eyes almost immediately closed again.

"Hold up, Legolas. Not so fast. We are not quite done yet, I regret." Legolas grumbled, his eyes remaining closed.

"What is it?" he asked hoarsely. Ai, but his throat was on fire, and his head was pounding from the relentless vomiting.

"I need to give you a second medication… What you have just taken will act fast but will also wear off fast - it will not be strong enough on its own. But I have remembered something from my training, and I have another that will have a more sustained effect. It is my hope that together, they will allow us control over your symptoms. Only…" Aragorn paused, and Legolas opened his mouth, thinking that the human had finished speaking. When no medication came though, he squinted up at his friend.

"Why do you not give it to me?" Aragorn cleared his throat and looked down for a moment, then made eye contact, his expression grave.

"Because this one does not go in your mouth."

"What do you mean - where else would it go?" Legolas sounded tired and annoyed, but Aragorn had his attention now. By way of answer, the human held out his hand - something lay in his palm. Legolas pushed himself more upright and looked from the human's hand to his face, puzzlement clear on his features.

"I am sorry, Legolas. You will not like this, but it must be done. You cannot keep anything down in your current state."

The elf's face, already flushed with fever, turned crimson as realisation hit him, and it was his turn to break eye contact.

"Estel, no!" he stammered, "I am fine, there is no need. I -" The archer screwed his eyes shut and weakly clamped one hand to his mouth as the other cradled his side, but his body betrayed him anyway. Aragorn patiently wiped strings of bile from his companion's mouth and fingers.

"I would not ask this of you if it were not necessary, my friend. You cannot continue to vomit like this, and your fever is far too high. This will work with the other medication to help. There is a strong remedy in here for pain, too… It will only take a moment, and will not hurt. Legolas, may I?" _Please do not say no. Please. I cannot bear to force this on you, but I fear I have no choice…_

Legolas went silent for a long while, his fevered brain trying furiously to come up with an alternative, but finding none. Pain lanced through his gut and he wrapped his hands miserably around himself and tried to quell his shivering.

"You say it will help?" he asked softly.

"I really, really hope so." Aragorn sounded tired. _Because if it does not, then I do not know what will._

"Then…" Legolas fidgeted, determined not to meet the human's gaze. His voice became so quiet that Aragorn almost had to make him repeat it. "Then I will trust your judgement. For 'tis not the first indignity that I have suffered this night, and nor shall it be the last, I expect."

"I understand, my friend. But if a momentary indignity brings relief, then it is well worth it." Legolas nodded resignedly, still looking at the ground. "I need you to lie down and roll onto your side - I will help you. I am just dropping your undergarment at the back, now bring your leg up like this - slowly, you will cause yourself pain if you move too fast. Legolas, do you need a moment?" Aragorn paused in concern, noting how the elf had stiffened. Legolas shook his head vehemently. His hands were raised to cover his face but the rosy tips of his ears betrayed his emotions. "I need you to relax or this won't work… Deep breaths. Slowly, in and out with me. Good. …And there, all done." Aragorn pulled away and gently tugged the undergarment back up. Legolas squirmed uncomfortably and peeked out from behind his fingers, face redder than before if at all possible. "Are you alright?" Legolas hesitated.

"Burns a little."

"I am sorry, but bear with it; it should pass shortly. I am going to wash my hands; I will not be long. Try not to move too much while I am gone."

"Better?" Aragorn soon returned, drying his hands on the seat of his breeches. Legolas sighed and nodded. "My dignity, not so much... Ai, this had better work. How long until I feel relief?" He tried unsteadily to wipe at the sweat that dripped down his face, and Aragon dropped down beside him and offered up the corner of a blanket. "Within half an hour, possibly sooner. It will be faster than by mouth."

"I hope you are right." Legolas shifted and rolled onto his back in order to better see his human friend. "Thank you, Estel." The elf's eyes slipped closed as his exhaustion got the better of him. "For always caring." Aragon opened his mouth to reply, but the elf's breathing had already changed as sleep took hold. Instead, he lightly smoothed a hand over the elf's heated forehead for a moment before rising and beginning the arduous task of packing up camp while trying to push through the fierce throbbing in his arm. Of all the times to have gotten himself injured…

Packing took the human longer than he had expected, and more than once he had found himself clumsily dropping things. By the time he had finished, the front of his tunic was soaked in sweat and he was ready to admit (at least to himself) that he needed something for the pain. Fortunately, they were in a glade of willows and so there would be no shortage of willow bark. Rather than use the carefully prepared ingredients in the healers' bag, the human collected fresh bark for himself, which he brewed into a tea and downed. While he waited for the effects to take hold, Aragorn checked on the elf. A touch of his forehead told the human that the archer's body temperature had begun to drop, and the young man looked to the stars in a silent thanks.

Settling down beside his friend, Aragorn closed his eyes and leaned back against their packs. Soon they would be riding hard for Imladris and he would need all the strength he could muster if he was to get them there before… No. Better to not think of that. And perhaps if he slept for a while, the fire in his arm might be quenched when he awoke. Legolas's deep, even breaths were comforting, and Aragorn synced his own breathing with that of the elf and soon dozed off despite his worry.

The first few notes of birdsong stirred Aragorn from his slumber, and the human blinked away the fog of sleep to see soft shards of a wintery dawn filtering through the willows. _Time to go_. Legolas still slept, albeit somewhat more restlessly than before, and Aragorn brushed a hand over the archer's forehead before getting to his feet. The fever was still present, although not dangerously so, and Legolas's next dose of medicine could wait until the horses were saddled and their belongings loaded. Aragorn set off to do just that, dragging a hand through his tousled dark hair as he went.

Mercifully, his arm felt a little better now and he was able to accomplish his task with few hitches. After a quick check of his work, the young human woke Legolas.

"Estel, be gone! I do not wish to awaken yet." Legolas squinted blearily up at Aragorn, clearly disorientated still. "Feel ill; let me sleep."

"Nay, sorry my friend, but we must leave for Imladris at once. It cannot wait." Legolas frowned for a moment at this, but then seemed to remember. He sighed and carefully eased himself up into a sitting position.

"Very well, Estel. But not before I have looked at your arm."

"What? Legolas, my arm is fine! We cannot afford to waste time on such a trivial thing." The elf stubbornly shook his head, causing himself to lurch forward with dizziness. Righting himself and looking more than a little queasy, he scowled at Aragorn, and the human saw the hint of a pout there.

"Not negotiable, Estel. We made a deal."

"Ai Valar, Legolas." Aragorn rolled his eyes and huffed. "Fine, but first you are taking your next dose of medicine."

Legolas blanched at this, looking more than a little flustered.

"Is… Is it truly necessary? I feel better than before."

"Yes. You feel better because the medicine is working, but it is important that it not be allowed to wear off."

"Just the one?" Legolas mumbled, "Under the tongue." Aragorn frowned as he considered it, and then nodded.

"Just the one," he agreed. "And we will see how you feel. And if, after that, you can drink something and hold it down, I will be satisfied." Visibly relieved, Legolas waited for Aragorn to produce the little glass bottle. After, the elf shot him an expectant look.

"Bring me the healing supplies, Estel." The human let out an exaggerated groan but got up to do the elf's bidding. The sooner they could leave, the better.

"Here - the supplies and some water." Aragorn sat down cross-legged beside the elf and held out a mug. "Drink this while you work, alright? You need it." Legolas nodded and took a tentative sip, then gestured for Aragorn to remove his shirt. Reluctantly, the human complied, trying to hide his face from the elf so that his friend would not see the obvious pain that the action wrought on him. Trying to raise his arm and pull the shirt over his head proved to be too much for the young man though, and he eventually had no choice but to allow Legolas to help.

"Estel, you are bleeding!" Legolas exclaimed in dismay upon catching sight of the bandages, and his fingers began softly to work at the dressings. "This is no good; you need to be more careful." Aragorn groaned inwardly, remembering the willow bark infusion he had drank earlier. Willow bark could thin the blood and increase bleeding, he knew, but the thought of pain relief had been so enticing that he had ignored that particular detail. Packing up camp probably had not helped either, he supposed, but it was hardly as though he could have avoided it.

"Estel, I do not like the look of this." Legolas had finished unwrapping the human's arm and his brow furrowed. The wounds looked red and inflamed, and Legolas suspected that had his own body temperature been normal, a simple touch would have revealed them to be heated. "Lean towards me for a moment, would you?" With a look of slight bemusement, Aragorn did as asked, and Legolas reached out and gently prodded the sides of the human's throat, confirming two swellings there. The young man drew back with a pained grunt, and Legolas grimaced. "Infection is setting in, Estel. It is good indeed that we are returning home. Do you feel feverish?"

"Legolas, listen to yourself! Worry about _yourself_ , not about me!" Aragorn flinched back as Legolas spread salve over the wounds, and set his jaw against the pain. The elf murmured an apology and picked out a roll of fresh bandages from the bag.

"It is done." Legolas finished binding Aragorn's arm and passed the back of his hand over his forehead. Once he had helped the human back into his shirt, Aragorn wasted no time in putting away the supplies and then stood to shoulder their packs. Once he had loaded everything onto the horses, the human returned for his friend and crouched next to him.

"Legolas, it is time. We must ride for Imladris. Here, your leggings and a thin shirt - I do not think you should travel in anything more lest your fever increases." Once he had helped Legolas to dress, Aragorn slid his good arm behind the elf's shoulders in preparation to lift the archer, but was shrugged off.

"Nay, I can stand… I think. Take my hand and pull me up." Reluctantly, Aragorn humoured his friend, only to have the elf stumble and collapse in a heap before the human could catch him.

Legolas's stomach churned; the overwhelming mixture of pain and sickness was too much for him. He felt Aragorn grab his hair as he started to retch, curling into a ball when it was done and then letting out a miserable curse at the implications of his failure to keep down the water. The human was knelt beside him in concern, apologising for having let the elf fall.

"Not your fault," Legolas managed to croak. His throat burned with renewed intensity and his ribs ached fiercely. Aragorn sighed unhappily, running his hands through his hair in agitation. "This cannot go on."

Once the human had the elf medicated to his satisfaction, he made again to lift his friend, but was once more pushed away.

"Legolas, let me help you this time!"

"Fine," the elf whispered hoarsely. "But you'll not carry me. Rupture your stitches… Just help me stand and... support me while I walk." Legolas hung his head in shame at his weakness. "I will not be ill again; I know what to expect. Nothing left, anyway."

"Legolas, no! Be reasonable!" Aragorn could scarcely believe what he was hearing. In response, the elf fixed him with a tired look and groaned lightly in frustration.

"Estel, I do not have the strength, nor the dexterity to restitch your wounds when the stitches tear - and tear they will if you exert yourself. Let us stop wasting time and instead work together." The human wanted desperately to argue, but the angry throbbing in his arm told him that the elf was right. Very grudgingly, he had no choice but to concede.

"Slowly. And if there are _any_ problems at all, you will tell me!" Legolas nodded wordlessly, and very carefully, Aragorn helped him to his feet. The elf's legs shook with the effort of carrying his own weight, and he clung to the human's shoulder in a white-knuckled grip - but he held firm. "Ready?" Aragorn tightened his hold around the elf's back and grasped the hand which had fisted itself in his shirt.

"Just a moment." Eyes closed, Legolas drew a long, deep breath as he summoned every ounce of his strength. Exhaling steadily and squaring his shoulders, the elf took a wobbly step forward. Immediately his head spun and his vision faded out, but this time he leaned into Aragorn and felt the human move in kind to safeguard him - refusing to let him fall. Once his senses returned, Legolas turned to his friend with a shaky smile that he hoped was at least somewhat reassuring - although judging by the concern on the young man's face, he surmised that it was in fact anything but. "Estel, I can do this." He ignored Aragorn's anxious huff and took a second step, not missing the way in which the human's hold on him tightened. Aragorn began to steer them in the direction of the gelding, only for the archer to resist. "Nay; Mithros. She is fleeter of foot and has the endurance to carry us for longer."

Eventually, the pair reached the little grey mare and with great difficulty, Aragorn managed to get Legolas into the saddle before clambering up behind him. Momentarily distracting himself from the searing pain in his arm, he glanced at the elf. Legolas looked worse - the exertion seemed to have drained him of what little strength he had had left, and the sky was growing ever lighter. If they wished to make Imladris this day, the human knew that they would need to make exceptional time indeed. And reach Imladris this day they must - Legolas could not afford to wait. With a sharp whistle to the mare, they were off. Aragorn prayed that they would make it in time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've tried not to use elvish words in this story where it is already assumed that characters are speaking elvish. However, when I got to this final chapter, I found that certain words just didn't translate well, and so I left them in.

**Chapter Six**

Travelling proved extremely trying. The movement of the horse constantly jostled Legolas despite Aragorn's best efforts to steady him, and in turn, the sensation would sicken the elf. After one too many halts, the human had eventually given up pulling Legolas down from the saddle and had instead pushed the little mare onwards even while the archer had retched and heaved. They were out of time and could no longer afford to stop if Legolas was to get the help that he so desperately needed. Besides, Aragorn had before been covered in far worse things than bile whilst fighting against the dark forces of Middle Earth. Leaning forward in the saddle, Aragorn pressed a kiss to the elf's temple and passed him the waterskin before once again focusing his thoughts on reaching their destination. The human could feel the mare tiring beneath them, but he needed to push her further still before he could change horses.

The moon had risen high in the sky by the time the weary travelers had descended into the valley of Imladris, and when Aragorn's gelding clattered over the stone bridge and into the courtyard of the Last Homely House, the bright celestial sphere was at its zenith. But they had made it - and not a moment too soon, the human thought grimly as he checked on the limp archer in his arms.

"Legolas? Legolas, we are here. Awaken, my friend." Aragorn nudged the elf, and then lightly shook the unresponsive form until a pair of azure eyes opened and a pained groan could be heard over the exhausted panting of the horses. "Legolas, I need to get help. Can you remain here without falling?" Glassy eyes turned to meet those of the human as the archer tried to process the words that seemed to be directed at him. His face was ashy and clammy and he seemed barely conscious. Still though, he made a valiant effort at a smile.

"Let go, I am taking you down." The elf's reaction had spoken more than any verbal response could ever have, and the human gently pried the archer's hands loose from their position on the saddle horn. "Here, put your arm around my waist, like this." Aragorn kicked his feet free from the stirrups and swung his leg over the saddle in preparation to dismount, just as Legolas slumped sideways into him. Exhausted from their travels, the young man was caught off guard and both he and Legolas tumbled to the ground. Reflexively pulling the archer close was all Aragorn could hope to do to protect his friend from harm. The human hit the ground hard. The wind was knocked from his body as a tearing pain assaulted his arm, and it was a moment before he was able to force himself upright, nauseated and frantically trying to draw breath. Finally, he was able to suck in a lungful of air, and immediately used it to call out to the unmoving elf still grasped in his arms. Hearing his name, Legolas twitched and let out a small whimper before starting to retch again.

Just as this latest bout seemed to have passed, the elf went limp, his head lolling into his own mess. When Aragorn failed to elicit any response from the still form, he rolled the archer onto his side so that he would not choke should he be ill again, and then something inside the human gave way. The levee that had been holding back all the emotion of the past day broke, and Aragorn let out an agonised wail.

"Help! Ada!" he cried out. Panic rose within him, threatening to take control, and with a last glance at the unconscious elf, Aragorn scrambled to his feet and dashed headlong for the front door, pounding upon the heavy wooden panels with all his might. "Someone, help!"

Just as Aragorn was about to give into his despair, one of the panels cracked open, and a raven head popped out.

"Estel?" Aragorn jumped backwards in surprise as the opening widened and two identical elves enveloped him in a crushing embrace. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Brother, what has happened?" Elladan was the first to pull back, noting the human's distress.

"You are bleeding!" Elrohir reached for the human's arm, but Aragorn wrenched himself loose, his anguish clearly escalating.

"Legolas! Courtyard!" he gasped between sobs, taking off running with the Noldor twins in hot pursuit. "Ro, get Ada!" The younger twin skidded to a halt and doubled back the way they had come, giving his brothers a worried look as he went.

Reaching the still form, Aragorn threw himself to the ground beside the wood elf, Elladan quickly following suit. Unable to stay the trembling in his hands, the human gathered his friend into his arms and rocked him, heedless of the pain that this brought upon his arm, or of the wetness that seeped from the limb and into the archer's tunic.

"Legolas, come back to me," he urged, trying vainly to instill calm into his voice, even as tears still ran down his cheeks.

"Estel, he is burning up!" Elladan withdrew his hand from the elf's forehead in alarm. "What foul poison has befallen him?"

"Adi, no," Aragorn shook his head. "I think it is side sickness," he whispered. The human tried to stand, his precious burden still cradled to his chest. His legs betrayed him though, and Elladan was quick to step in to prevent his brother from falling.

"Estel, allow me." The Noldo tried to take the prince from Aragorn, but the human shied away, clutching the archer fiercely.

"Just help me to bring him to Ada! He will know what to do."

Elladan nodded, gently steadying Aragorn. The human was making precious little sense, but the elf knew that questions could wait until the current situation had been stabilised. Judging by the sticky heat radiating from the young man, it appeared also that the Mirkwood prince was not the only one who was presently running a fever.

"Of course Estel." As the Noldo guided his brother up the stairs, he made a mental note to send the first servant he saw out to attend to the two horses who stood in the courtyard. Based on sight alone, both appeared to have been ridden hard and would need care.

"Adi! Estel!" Elladan and Aragorn looked up at the shout from the doorway, and Elrohir burst forth, closely followed by the Lord of Imladris. The younger twin drew in a horrified gasp at the sight of the prince, and concern flared in his grey eyes at the crimson stain that now covered Aragorn's forearm. He started towards the pair, but was halted by Elrond's hand as it descended on his shoulder. The elder elf passed his son and reached his newest patients, pulling them quickly into his arms before stepping back to analyse the scene.

"Oh my child. I am here now - let me help." This time, Aragorn did not resist as Legolas was lifted from his arms, and Elladan was there again to catch him when his own legs buckled. Elrohir could stand it no longer and darted forwards to rejoin his brothers.

"Estel, what happened?" he hissed.

Aragorn started to mumble an exhausted answer, but he was interrupted by his foster father's stern voice.

"Hush, Elrohir. There will be time yet for details. Help get Estel to the healing wing first. Elladan, run ahead and prepare the room." At this, both twins fell silent, each falling into his respective role. Aragorn was having trouble walking, and Elrohir, not wanting to waste time, scooped the protesting human into his arms.

"You are hot, little brother!" he pressed his lips to the human's forehead and his concern intensified, his steps quickening unbidden.

As soon as they had entered the healing wing, Aragorn wriggled free from Elrohir's grip and quickly crossed the floor to where Elladan and Elrond were laying Legolas down on a bed. The prince was starting to come around and was making soft sounds of pain, and Aragorn gently took the elf's hand in both of his. The human's left hand was slick with blood and a few drops fell onto the crisp white linen.

"Legolas."

"Estel." The archer's eyes opened slightly and a weak smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Adi, Ro! Lord Elrond." The smile widened but vanished in an instant as a wave of pain crashed over the elf. Aragorn managed to roll him over just in time as the prince's stomach sought once more to turn itself inside out. The episode was particularly long-lived, and as the human comforted his friend, he related the past events to their present company. Elrond listened intently, every so often instructing one of the twins to fetch various herbs and instruments from the shelves and cabinets that lined the room.

As Aragorn concluded his tale, explaining his theory on the elf's affliction, Elrond nodded gravely.

"I fear it is as you say, my son. Fortunately for Legolas, he has had you to take care of him so far, for you have done well." Elrond grasped Aragorn's upper arm lightly before he straightened and turned to the twins. "Elladan, begin administering the medications while I examine Legolas. Start with the most potent of those for sickness, and then give for inflammation and fever. Elrohir, please begin triage on Estel."

"Ada, no! I need to help Legolas." Aragorn struggled against his brother as the Noldo tried to get him to take a seat on a nearby bed.

"Penneth." The Lord of Imladris paused in his ministrations to turn grey eyes filled with kindness on his youngest son. "You have already done much. Rest now, and let Elrohir tend your wounds. I promise that I shall call upon you should it become necessary." Aragorn deliberated for a moment, but submitted to his brother's touch, though his eyes remained on his best friend.

"Estel, that tunic needs to come off. I have to see the wounds." The raven-haired elf interrupted the human's thoughts as he pulled lightly on the edges of the garment. With a sigh, Aragorn nodded and unclipped the pin that held his cloak in place, shrugging off the soft fabric and then trying to help Elrohir with the tunic. Much like before when Legolas had tended the injury, the human only complicated the matter as he fumbled with his left arm, and Elrohir soon stopped him. "Brother, you are worsening the bleeding! Raise your arms; it will be easier if I take over - else I fear I shall have to cut this from you." Too fatigued and troubled to give a witty retort, Aragorn simply complied, allowing Elrohir to separate the filthy vestment from the young man's torso, taking the light cotton undershirt with it to expose the human's bare chest.

Aragorn tore his eyes away from Legolas as the fabric was pulled over his head, and let out a grunt of pain as the sleeve was tugged loose from his arm. He dropped his eyes to look at the offending limb, noticing how the bandages that Legolas had so painstakingly applied were soaked in blood, while more continued to trickle slowly down his wrist and into his palm. Of course his stitches had had to tear when he and Legolas had fallen from the horse. Aragorn let out a frustrated huff and then resumed his watch over Legolas as Elrohir applied himself to unwinding the strips of cloth. Elrond was slowly working his way over the wood elf's abdomen; every so often he would pause in this task to ask Legolas one or more questions. While Legolas was clearly in a great deal of pain still, he seemed calmer and more coherent than he had been before. Mercifully, whatever Elladan had given him must have begun to take effect already - or mayhap it was simply the presence of the Noldor healers and the restorative properties of Vilya, which never left Elrond's finger.

"Ai, little brother." Aragorn clenched his teeth as Elrohir peeled away the bloodied wrappings from his arm. "This is badly infected. You know what comes next." The Noldo's face was apologetic as he pushed herbs towards the human. "Chew these and keep pressure on the wounds whilst I prepare the unguent." Aragorn nodded mutely and did as instructed, his concern for Legolas outweighing any dread he might have felt over the procedure to come.

As he watched, Elrond straightened at the same time as Legolas gave a sharp cry of pain. Elladan, who had been standing at the prince's shoulder, immediately cradled the archer's head in his hands, soothing the wood elf. Aragorn lunged forward, intending to join his eldest brother and nearly knocking the mortar and pestle from Elrohir's hands, but Elrond turned to face him. The elf lord's extended arm halted the human's forward movement, and Elrohir readjusted his tools and continued his work. Elladan looked up at the scuffle, but remained with Legolas, his fingers softly massaging the elf's temples.

"My sons," the healer began, "Legolas's condition, as you well know, is extremely serious. Estel, it is indeed side sickness from which Legolas suffers." Aragorn's face fell and he let out a small, fearful sound at this. "However," Elrond continued, "I believe there to be hope still. He has not ruptured internally and so the infection remains contained. Elladan and I have treated his symptoms and made him as comfortable as possible for now, but there is one other medication that he will need; one made from a very particular kind of mould - you are all familiar with this one. I will begin working on the remedy at once, but its preparation cannot be rushed. What Legolas has been given now will buy him some time, however - " Elrond was interrupted by a loud, purposeful cough from Elladan, and all eyes turned to the eldest twin, who was staring pointedly at Elrohir.

The youngest Noldo appeared to shuffle his feet for a moment and gulped almost imperceptibly before straightening his shoulders and composing himself once more.

"Ada, I did not finish my prescribed course for the arrow wound from last week. I -" He averted his eyes, not wishing to see the expression which he was sure had taken up residence on his father's face. "The wound was healing well without it. Las can have it - it is still in my chambers." Elrohir winced and raised his eyes once more, only to see that Elrond was positively beaming. Elladan flashed his brother an amused grin as he wet a cloth and gently sponged Legolas's face, carefully removing any evidence that the elf had earlier passed out in his own vomit. "I will just go and fetch it then." Not knowing how to react to the eerily delighted Peredhil before him, Elrohir put aside the mortar and pestle and stood nervously to leave. As Elrond crossed the few paces of floor necessary to take his son's place beside Aragorn, the younger twin found himself caught in a powerful embrace.

"Ai, my son! Never did I think that I would see the day whereupon I _praised_ you for your recklessness. Go now, and return swiftly!" Elrond released his son and sat lightly upon the bed alongside Aragorn. The human's eyes shone with relief as he watched Elladan caring for Legolas. Though the prince's eyes were closed, the slight twitch of his lips showed that the present situation had not escaped the wood elf's awareness.

Elrond shook his head, still smiling, and took up the mortar and pestle, inspecting its contents before setting it down, his countenance becoming serious once more.

"Estel, show me." The elf lord gently placed a hand over that of the human, who held the dressings tightly to his still-bleeding arm. Aragorn shifted his hand and Elrond lifted the dressings - the healer's brows knitting in concern as he did so. "This is not good," he muttered, "Elrohir was correct." The healer palmed his adopted son's forehead, his frown deepening. "At this rate, it will not only be Legolas requiring that remedy."

"And once Legolas is well, it will all have been worth it." Aragorn looked satisfied, knowing that even the Lord of Imladris could not possibly argue. The Noldo shook his head again - this time in resignation, and scooped some of the thick paste that Elrohir had mixed onto his fingertips.

"Give me your arm, penneth." Elrond carefully pulled the young human's arm into his lap and began spreading the mixture thickly over the festering wounds. The stitches had been torn loose in many places, and the broken skin was inflamed and swollen, with angry red tendrils beginning to form and spread outwards from the deep lacerations. Aragorn yelped in pain and drew back as Elrond's fingers brushed over a particularly painful area, and Legolas's eyes shot open. Sensing that the elf would attempt to sit up, Elladan held him down and hushed him until Aragorn had recovered his composure enough to reassure the prince himself. The human bit the inside of his cheek as Elrond finished and bound his arm tightly, knowing that soon the herbs would have eased the pain enough for the wounds to be properly treated.

"Ada, I have it!" Elrohir returned, striding briskly through the room and holding aloft a small bottle of liquid.

"Thank you, Elrohir." With a light clasp of Aragorn's shoulder, Elrond rose and took the potion from the other elf, holding it up to the flickering candlelight as he turned it this way and that. Once he was satisfied, the Lord of Imladris took the brew to Legolas's bedside, his footsteps closely followed by first Elrohir and then a slightly unsteady Aragorn. The human cradled his arm to his chest, looking visibly pale.

"Legolas." Elrond placed a hand on the prince's forehead, waiting until the blue eyes fluttered open before he spoke. "I have here a medicine that I need you to take. I need you to swallow this and keep it there - do you think you can do that?" The elf balked, immediately turning wide eyes on Aragorn. Feeling helpless, the human let go of his arm and reached out to grasp the elf's hand, wincing as he accidentally jostled his injury. Elladan appeared to notice this, and sidled in next to his brother, tucking an affectionate arm around the human's waist.

"I cannot!" Legolas cried. "Estel, tell them!" Distress was mounting on the fair features. "You have seen what happens." The wood elf's breathing was speeding up, and Aragorn leaned in closer to calm him, thankful for Elladan's supportive hold on him as he did so.

"There has to be something we can do!" Aragorn looked imploringly to Elrond, who looked to already be thoroughly contemplating a solution.

"I believe that there is. Legolas, I will lend you my strength, but I will need you to trust me in order for this to work." The wood elf sighed unhappily, and looked to Aragorn for reassurance. The human nodded encouragingly, which seemed to be all the convincing the prince needed.

"Then I will try."

"Thank you, penneth. Lie still and be calm." The Lord of Imladris settled himself on the bed and indicated for the others to step back, before he took each of Legolas's hands in his own and asked the wood elf to breathe with him.

As he followed Elrond's instructions, Legolas felt both his pain and sickness lessen as strength seemed to flow from the Noldorin healer and into his mind and body. The elder healer gasped in sudden discomfort, and Legolas tried to break the contact but Elrond's grasp refused to give way. "Keep breathing with me, Little Leaf. I can endure this." Legolas murmured a reluctant agreement and once more surrendered himself to the healing connection.

"Elrohir, the medicine." Elrond's voice was low and soothing, and Legolas allowed the younger twin to bring the bottle to his lips. His throat closed up as the liquid entered his mouth, but he swallowed at Elrond's instruction to do so. Immediately, Legolas felt his body prepare to reject the fluid and panic rose up within him as his stomach started to contract. "Legolas, focus on me!" Elrond's voice broke into his consciousness. "Breathe." And suddenly, Legolas found that he could. His stomach immediately began to settle and the sickness receded slightly. "Just like that. Close your eyes and allow me to fight for you. You can do this, penneth." Elrond closed the distance between himself and the archer, bending forward until their foreheads were pressed together. Legolas swallowed and whined in discomfort as his body again protested, but he settled faster this time. Elrond's grip on his hands tightened and the elf lord kept up a steady stream of calming words. "Breathe with me," he repeated, "Just breathe, and know that I will remain here with you for as long as you need. Breathe with me." Gradually, the lines of discomfort on Legolas's face faded, and his once-ragged breathing eased into a gentle rhythm. Elrond remained in this manner for several long minutes before he raised his head slightly. "Elladan, Elrohir." Though his strained voice was but a whisper, the twins at once became attentive. "Take Estel back to his bed and treat his arm. I will remain here with Legolas." Both the younger elves nodded, and Elrond again dropped his head to meet that of the wood elf's. He started to sing to Legolas in a low, steady hum, his voice reverberating through the chamber.

Elladan had to half drag the mesmerised Aragorn from the bedside in order to once more deposit him onto his own bed. Elrohir lifted the human's booted feet up onto the bedding, his slender fingers immediately beginning to work on the laces. While his twin tugged off their brother's boots, Elladan took Aragorn's arm and turned it palm-up in his lap. He gave the forearm an experimental series of taps, trying to gauge the human's pain sensitivity. Aragorn hissed softly and grimaced, but nodded to the elf to continue. Blood was already seeping through the bandages and everyone knew that the wounds needed to be dealt with sooner rather than later. The older twin gave the human a look filled with sympathy, but dutifully unravelled the bandages to expose the long gashes.

"Ro, hot water please." Elladan picked up a fresh swathe of gauze and wet it in the bowl that his twin brought. "Estel, I am sorry; this will hurt." Aragorn set his jaw and indicated to the Noldo that he should continue. As soon as the gauze made contact with the weeping flesh, the human bit back a cry of pain. "I am so sorry, brother," Elladan murmured, but his ministrations did not cease.

"Estel, how about I tell you a story?" Elrohir plopped down beside him and ruffled the human's shaggy dark hair. "Your fever has to come down, and while I work to cool you, I could tell you about the time that Adi and I switched out Arwen's shampoo with - "

" _Ro!_ " Elladan admonished, shooting his twin a warning look, but he was only half serious.

"Lighten up, brother! It is for a good cause." Elrohir winked at his twin and picked up the wet cloth, with which he began lightly to sponge Aragorn's chest. "It was the year 325 of the Third Age - Arwen was but 84 years of age, and like many young elf-maidens, our dear sister was very concerned over her appearance…"

"You are fortunate that our _dear sister_ still sleeps, or she would surely have your head," Elladan mumbled, but his eyes held a mischievous gleam as Elrohir, unperturbed, launched into his tale with gusto.

In this manner, the twins were able to get Aragorn's wounds thoroughly cleaned, restitched, and rebound. The human had even chuckled at a few particular parts of his brothers' mischief during the process, though his eyes never long left Legolas. With the procedure now completed, Aragorn allowed himself to fall back against the pillows, dizzy and sick with pain. While Elladan cleaned up and dutifully packed away the supplies, Elrohir handed Elrond's youngest a small mug.

"Drink this, Estel. For the pain. It will help with your fever too." The human was still far too hot for the elf's liking, even after the Noldo had sponged nearly every inch of his brother's skin. Aragorn accepted the remedy with no protest, attesting to just how ill and exhausted he truly was. He looked over at the wood elf again. Legolas had fallen asleep whilst he and the twins had been busy, and though Elrond still kept a watchful eye over the slumbering form, the youngest elf in the room appeared to be resting peacefully. Aragorn took a cautious sip of the medicine, finding that it did not taste nearly as foul as he had been expecting. A sense of calm had descended over the room, and Aragorn could feel drowsiness settling heavily over his senses.

"What happens now?" he wondered aloud.

"Now," came Elrond's voice from the bedside, "We wait. We have done everything in our power for Legolas, and the rest is up to him. It is my belief that we have treated him in time, and we will keep a constant vigil over him to monitor and treat his condition. Our Greenleaf is strong, and he is fighting this. Though it is early to say, I believe he will pull through for us." Elrond smiled tiredly.

"Have hope, Estel." Elladan, having finished his duties, took a seat beside the human and draped an arm around his shoulders, pulling his youngest brother in close.

"We have seen Las suffer worse and live to tell the tale." Elrohir joined them on the human's other side and pulled the covers over all three of the bed's occupants. His statement had not been entirely true, the Noldo realised with some trepidation. For whilst the prince of Mirkwood had indeed survived a myriad of maladies, side sickness was something else entirely - an affliction which even he and Elladan were out of their depth with. He opted not to correct his mistake however, instead pressing the back of his hand to Aragorn's forehead. Frowning, he rearranged the covers so that more of the human's body was exposed.

"Like what?" the human questioned, but then shook his head, causing Elrohir to let out a quiet sigh of relief. "Actually, I do not wish to know." His voice was soft with weariness, and it was clear to the twins that sleep was close for the human.

"Finish your medicine and then you must rest." Elladan gave their patient a gentle nudge, and Aragorn resumed sipping at the mug. When he had finished, Elrohir took it from him and placed the empty vessel on a small end table near the bed.

"Rest now, little brother," he encouraged. Aragorn's head was slowly nodding towards his chest, but at Elrohir's words, the human tried to shake off the sleepiness.

"But, Legolas…"

"But, nothing, Estel." Elrond's voice was stern. "We will care for him, and we will wake you should his condition worsen. Penneth, the best thing that you can do for Legolas is to rest and give your body time to heal."

"We will be here the entire time." It was Elladan who lovingly ruffled the human's dishevelled hair this time, causing him to give up with a sigh. If nothing else, Aragorn knew when he was beaten - there was no way in Arda that he could argue with all three Noldor elves and win.

"Fine, I will rest. But only for a little while, and then I will help to care for Legolas."

"Very well, brother." Had Aragorn not been so thoroughly drained, he would have seen the smirk that passed from Elrohir to Elladan. The older twin opened his mouth to say something, but shut it when it became clear that the mortal was already asleep.

"Very well, indeed." He hummed, fondly pushing strands of damp hair from the human's forehead.

* * *

When Aragorn awoke, beams of hazy sunshine flooded in through the window and joyful birdsong filtered into the room. He took a moment to get his bearings, and once everything came flooding back to him, the young human bolted upright in bed, his eyes searching for but not finding what he sought.

"Legolas?!" Panic and horror rose in Aragorn's voice as he took in the sight of the empty room, and he made ready to vault from the bed. Worst case scenarios were already flashing madly through his mind.

'Estel, brother! It is alright!" A hand shot out to restrain him, and only then did the human realise that Elladan still lay beside him. Of the other elves, however, there was no sign. Aragorn turned searching eyes on his brother, his body still coiled like a spring. "Calm yourself, little brother." Elladan's voice was husky with sleep, and the Peredhil brought a hand up to rub at his eyes. "Legolas wished to relieve himself, and Ada and Ro went to accompany him, that is all. They have not been long gone, and will surely return soon." Aragorn's jaw dropped open in disbelief as he struggled to make sense of the Noldo's words.

"Legolas went to… relieve himself?" he exclaimed incredulously. When last Aragorn had laid eyes on the wood elf, he had been barely conscious, and his body devoid of anything to relieve itself of.

"Yes, Estel." Elrohir chuckled as he dragged a hand through his silken ebony tresses. "It is well past midday and he has been drinking tea with Arwen all morning. Elves _do_ have bladders, you know."

"Drinking tea?" Aragorn echoed dumbly, becoming more confused by the moment. "But surely - ?" Elladan's grey eyes were alight with merriment as he rescued the human from his bewilderment.

"You will find that Ada's cocktail of treatments has begun to work at a great pace indeed. Legolas is still sick, but he will recover. He - " The elf's next words were lost as Aragorn turned and flung both arms around the unsuspecting elf. Not even the pain that spiked through the human's left arm could slacken his grip, and Elladan had given up on ever dislodging his brother when a voice spoke.

"Estel?" The voice was weak and trembly, but nevertheless unmistakable. At once, Aragorn released his hold on the Noldo and whipped around to face the speaker as a delighted grin lit up his features. This time, Elladan was not fast enough to stop Aragorn from launching himself from the bed, almost falling on his face as he did so, for such was the human's eagerness to reach the one who had spoken.

"Legolas?!"

In the doorway stood Elrohir and the Lord of Imladris, supporting the prince of Mirkwood between them. Legolas was pale and his legs shook from the effort of supporting his meagre weight, but he locked eyes with Aragorn and flashed a triumphant grin.

"You are awake at last, lazy human!" he laughed, ducking out from the elves on either side of him and taking a halting step towards the human. The elf was lucky indeed that Aragorn had moved in kind, for no sooner had the human wrapped his friend in an embrace than Legolas collapsed into him as the elf's strength gave out. Aragorn staggered slightly to regain his balance under the unexpected weight, but his legs held.

"Easy, Legolas," he murmured into the pale golden hair. It smelled sweetly of meadow flowers and Aragorn realised that the remaining vestiges of the elf's sickness had been washed away. Legolas had been changed into fresh nightclothes and his body was surprisingly cool as it pressed against the human's still-exposed chest. This only made Aragorn cling to him all the more tightly, relishing the contact.

All too soon, Aragorn had to pull away as Elrond and the twins rushed to aid them, but there was no need. Aragorn started to usher Legolas back to bed, waving off the others' assistance. The human could feel strength returning to his legs as he moved, and he easily settled his charge into the bedding. The elf's face was tight with pain, but even so, the prince's smile refused to budge.

Upon straightening, Aragorn realised that he too would need to follow in Legolas's earlier footsteps. A change of clothes and a bath would hardly go amiss either. He turned and headed for the door, but was halted as Elrond's hand closed around his upper arm.

"Estel, just where do you think you are going?" Elladan and Elrohir snickered quietly in the background, knowing their father all too well.

"Nature calls." Aragorn couldn't help but laugh.

"Indeed." Elrond frowned and palmed his youngest's forehead. "Fine, I will allow it." He nodded sagely, eliciting further giggling from the twins, who had busied themselves with braiding Legolas's hair.

"Why, thank you, Ada." Aragorn rolled his eyes and gave a mock bow, earning himself The Eyebrow.

"I suppose you will not mind me accompanying you to ensure that you do not become _lost_ on your return journey." Though the elf lord's expression remained stern, his eyes betrayed the humour that his statement had alluded to. Both Aragorn and Legolas (and indeed, the twins too) had become infamous for suddenly turning up missing from the healing wing, and Elrond Half-elven, son of Eärendil and Lord of Imladris, would have none of this on his watch. "And on your return, the twins and I will tend your arm."

Upon his reappearance into the room, refreshed and clad in a fresh set of clothes, Aragorn made his way once more to the bed, resigning himself to the misery that lay in store for him at the hands of Elrond and the twins. As he passed Legolas's bed though, the wood elf's arm snaked out from under the covers and yanked the human backwards by his shirt, causing him to sit down on the linen to avoid falling over. When he turned to face the elf with a quizzical look on his face, he found that the archer wore a wide grin and that the creases in his face had smoothed - thanks in no small part to something the twins must have given him, Aragorn supposed. As if on cue, Elladan and Elrohir appeared on either side of him, holding bandages and various other supplies. Elrond approached and pulled up a nearby chair, carefully setting out the supplies on the bed.

Aragorn subconsciously tensed up as Elrond took his abused arm, but then the human felt a familiar hand slip into his own. He looked over at Legolas, returning the elf's contact in a firm squeeze as his heart swelled with joy despite his pain. For they were in Imladris, surrounded by loved ones, and soon all would be well. No matter what hardships the next few days held, everything would be alright, and that was all that mattered.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we come to the end of this story. A few notes on the medical details in this story, for those who are interested in knowing. Appendicitis can rarely be caused by blunt force trauma to the abdomen, and so too can it very rarely be resolved by aggressive antibiotic treatment alone (sourced from credible medical journals). Given that Legolas's constitution is that of an elf and not a mortal, this approach seemed to be worth going with in this story. I got hold of The Atlas of Middle Earth by Karen Wynn Fonstad, which served as my cartography reference for this story. I plotted out both Aragorn and Legolas's route into The Angle as well as their return journey, worked out the distances, and then compared the return journey distance to the distance able to be traveled by a fit endurance horse in one day to ensure that them getting from their camp by the river to Imladris in a day was not unrealistic. I can highly recommend The Atlas of Middle Earth, as there are detailed regional maps as well as particulars of smaller areas too, like the layout of Imladris. Thank you for reading this story; I hope you have enjoyed it and that you will stick around for whatever I write next.
> 
> Acknowledgements for this story go to Attenia, for keeping me motivated, and then to BookWorm624 - I'm not sure if I subconsciously got the idea for Elrond and Legolas's scene from the chat we had, but I thought of you after this scene decided to write itself, and thought that I'd give you credit anyway. And of course, to everyone who has read and especially reviewed this story, you have my heartfelt thanks, as it is all of you who keep me going in this endeavour.


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